Darkness settled in around the stone building which set along a field of stars, nestled in a grove of living emeralds. In the distance, just on the edge of sight, small creatures could be seen scurrying from the shadow of one bush, to the relative shelter of another. Beneath the ground, lay a labyrinth of tunnels and warrens that made up the homes of rabbits and hoppers. Here, within the comfortable safety of the earth, their young nestled close together for warmth as they awaited the return of parents off on the hunt for food.
Within Connemara, all was quiet. For the first time in some weeks, Izzy seemed to be resting soundly. The nightmares which seemed to plague her faded and gone. At least for now. Aedon sat for a time, watching her peaceful slumber. He was careful not to make any moves or sounds which might disturb her. The thought never crossed his mind to disrupt her sleep or cross any boundaries into her quiet dreams. For now, it was enough for him that she was not awaking often, or calling out from deep within the grasp of nightmares. Could they really have passed? Faded into the shadows of night as swiftly as they had come. Reaching for a book on the table that stood close at hand, Aedon took up his book. Opening it to a page, he removed the leather bookmark, and started reading where he had left off.
“A deep sigh seemed to come up from the ground itself. Tortured and twisted, trees reached grotesquely towards a sun blotted out by the billowing smoke. Black and fetid, it arose from the fields of slag and scorched bracken that covered the earth for as far as the eye could see. Acrid it was, stinging the eyes and scorching the throat making every breath a laborious task. His body was stretched beyond all endurance, his soul cried for the sweet rest of oblivion. And though it would have been easier to lay himself down, and surrender to death, he could not help but believe that he must carry on towards…
“Towards what?
“Hill after hill he climbed. Each step forward brought excruciating pain, every breath became shallow and labored. He longed to see the light of day again but, as with the trees, his aching eyes were met only with a thick, grey haze. For how long he trudged forward, he could not say; a week, a month, or perhaps it had only been an hour or two. All sense of time and space were lost here, all hope strung out behind him as seeds cast on fallow ground. Unattended, unnurtured, left to wither and die in this god-forsaken land. Until at last, broken and at the end of all strength, he lowered his body to the ground, and lay still.
“He was unsure how long he had lay there. His eyes opened onto the same grey landscape that had been there ere he closed them. Struggling to stand, he peered off into the distance. All directions he saw the same thing. A moving wall of grey rising from the many deep scars cut into the earth. His lungs filled with smoke causing him to cough violently. At times, barely able to keep his footing, and yet still he managed to trudge on. But to where? What was it that he sought, if he sought anything at all? Nearly spent, he was about to sit on the side of a slag hill when something caught his eye.
“Was that a point of light?
“Trudging onwards, he made his way towards the distant point; at times, it seemed to vanish and then reappear as though something had passed between him, where he stood, and where it was, but always, it reappeared. With each labored step, it seemed to grow closer. Until at long last, he climbed a last hill and looked down on a small wooden bridge, with a single lantern hanging over it. Just past the bridge, in a small, green clearing, sat a neat stone cottage. It seemed oddly out of place within the blackened fields of destruction. Perhaps it was a mere mirage or, just maybe, his salvation.”
(To Be Continued)
Within Connemara, all was quiet. For the first time in some weeks, Izzy seemed to be resting soundly. The nightmares which seemed to plague her faded and gone. At least for now. Aedon sat for a time, watching her peaceful slumber. He was careful not to make any moves or sounds which might disturb her. The thought never crossed his mind to disrupt her sleep or cross any boundaries into her quiet dreams. For now, it was enough for him that she was not awaking often, or calling out from deep within the grasp of nightmares. Could they really have passed? Faded into the shadows of night as swiftly as they had come. Reaching for a book on the table that stood close at hand, Aedon took up his book. Opening it to a page, he removed the leather bookmark, and started reading where he had left off.
“A deep sigh seemed to come up from the ground itself. Tortured and twisted, trees reached grotesquely towards a sun blotted out by the billowing smoke. Black and fetid, it arose from the fields of slag and scorched bracken that covered the earth for as far as the eye could see. Acrid it was, stinging the eyes and scorching the throat making every breath a laborious task. His body was stretched beyond all endurance, his soul cried for the sweet rest of oblivion. And though it would have been easier to lay himself down, and surrender to death, he could not help but believe that he must carry on towards…
“Towards what?
“Hill after hill he climbed. Each step forward brought excruciating pain, every breath became shallow and labored. He longed to see the light of day again but, as with the trees, his aching eyes were met only with a thick, grey haze. For how long he trudged forward, he could not say; a week, a month, or perhaps it had only been an hour or two. All sense of time and space were lost here, all hope strung out behind him as seeds cast on fallow ground. Unattended, unnurtured, left to wither and die in this god-forsaken land. Until at last, broken and at the end of all strength, he lowered his body to the ground, and lay still.
“He was unsure how long he had lay there. His eyes opened onto the same grey landscape that had been there ere he closed them. Struggling to stand, he peered off into the distance. All directions he saw the same thing. A moving wall of grey rising from the many deep scars cut into the earth. His lungs filled with smoke causing him to cough violently. At times, barely able to keep his footing, and yet still he managed to trudge on. But to where? What was it that he sought, if he sought anything at all? Nearly spent, he was about to sit on the side of a slag hill when something caught his eye.
“Was that a point of light?
“Trudging onwards, he made his way towards the distant point; at times, it seemed to vanish and then reappear as though something had passed between him, where he stood, and where it was, but always, it reappeared. With each labored step, it seemed to grow closer. Until at long last, he climbed a last hill and looked down on a small wooden bridge, with a single lantern hanging over it. Just past the bridge, in a small, green clearing, sat a neat stone cottage. It seemed oddly out of place within the blackened fields of destruction. Perhaps it was a mere mirage or, just maybe, his salvation.”
(To Be Continued)